To Kill A Child
by AtomicKokoro
Summary: Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.
1. Chapter 1: Born

**The Killer Of A Child**

**By: Atomic Kokoro**

**Storyline**

Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.

**Before You Read**

What the heck was wrong with me lately?

I been writing some really scary fanfictions lately. "The Way Fire Burns" has Yaoi/Lime, this one is freaking bloody and I had a curse word in "Choir of Voices, an Angel Sings".

Should I be scared?

On with the story.

…

**The Killer Of A Child**

Bang!

Tony collapsed to the ground, screaming and growling in pain. "Direct hit, sir," a man said through his radio, dismounting his gun.

"Remember; we want him alive, Sharp. Bring him back," a strong, male voice replied.

Sharp nodded and approached the injured boy, who was still growling in agony and frustration. The man took a good look over Tony, trying to figure out where, exactly, he had shot the bullet.

The young spy was clutching his left thigh, blood pouring from the wound onto his hand and into the snow. The man grabbed Tony by the arm roughly and dragged him along the ground towards the base Sharp was sent to, beating him once and again as they returned.

Not once had Tony managed to raise to his feet on their way there. However, Tony managed to slip from the man's arms and tried to escape, but Sharp was strong and quick.

And cruel enough to punish him for escaping.

Tony screamed and struggled as he was dragged back to the base. His efforts proved nothing and he was locked in a room just inside the base's perimeter. The room wasn't heated and it was too cold outside for anyone to survive without a heating source.

So what made him think he could escape?

He screamed and sobbed, half-hoping someone would hear him and save him. The other half knew no one was going to save him. He was a prisoner to America. If they wanted to see to it he was shot, he was shot. If they wanted to interrogate him for answers, he would be interrogated.

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

He spent countless hours trying to understand why this was happening to _him_. What had he done to be captured and tortured like this? What had he done to be hunted down and imprisoned like an animal? What could he, alone, do to endanger America? Or any other country, for that matter?

The boy had been kept in the prison building for far too long. Frost was building on his eyelashes and he couldn't find the voice to sob. His tears froze as ice on his cheeks. His body quivered and shook from the cold, his arms wrapped around his body to keep himself warm. He feared death of the cold if he didn't die of starvation.

He had been there for weeks before his escape, tortured, starved, beaten. He really missed his family. He missed his siblings. He missed school and his friends and the missions he and his team were sent on.

Did anyone notice he was missing?

Sharp entered his room days later, curious to see if the boy was dead or alive. Tony was alive, but just barely. How much longer did he have until death greeted him?

The man grabbed the back of the boy's collar, waking him in an instant, and dragged him out the door. There was no action from him when being brought into the base. Tony couldn't believe how relieved he felt when he discovered the main base was heated.

His tears heated back to liquid and the frost on his eyelashes melted. The bullet wound still pulsed, each throb sending a wave of pain through his body. His eyes finally opened a small bit. Everything was blurry. The light was intense from the darkness from his eyes being constantly closed and the sky was covered in dark clouds 24/7.

Tony found himself strapped to a table that stood almost straight up but it was tilted back a little. He stirred but didn't fully regain his senses. He could only catch a few words and phrases.

"...the boss said...and he is..."

"...but he's just...we can't..."

"...we have...no choice..."

"...but...inhumane..."

"...no choice..."

Tony blinked and finally regained what senses were lost. "W-what...?"

The two men, one Sharp and the other unnamed, looked at Tony before looking back at each other. They sighed and left the room. Tony sat in silence for a minute before beginning to struggle against his bounds. "Hey! Come back here! What do you think you're doing?"

He stared through the glass where one of the two men, the unnamed one, began to fiddle with the controls. He stopped for a minute and looked up at Tony before pressing a button.

An electric shock traveled through his whole body, forcing a terrible scream to erupt from his throat. The shock tore him apart for the deepest reaches of his being. Another thread of his sanity had vanished with the electrocution.

Again and again, he was tortured without reason. And each and every time a shock was sent through his body, another piece, another part of his childish innocence was killed. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. His skin parted, creating cuts and rashes.

Hours passed and his body grew numb. His voice grew weak and was eventually silenced.

The unnamed one behind the glass stopped. The boy's chest heaved up and down. His breath was shallow and uneven. The torturer stepped into the room and slowly walked to the boy.

He placed a hand on his forehead and Tony looked up. His eyes were cold. Hard. Unforgiving. The man shook his head. "Another child lost to torture. Another killer born from the child's suffering."

The man turned and left the room to retrieve Sharp.

When the returned, Sharp was almost shocked at how deadly Tony looked. The boy could kill.

Sharp released the boy from the torture table. Tony stumbled at first, but he fixed himself. "You'll make a great addition to our forces, Clark."

That's what they wanted him for? All the torture, all the suffering and beatings and starvation just to join a stupid force? He wasn't going through with it. No, not anymore. "Forget it," he muttered. "I won't join."

Sharp chuckled. "Fine," he said. "I was hoping you would agree, but if you won't join, I'll have you punished and shot."

Tony just stared at the glass. "I'm not the one being punished," he whispered. "You'll all die."

The only things Sharp managed to catch was the one step forward Tony took and the shattering of the glass. He pulled his radio to his mouth and yelled, "Code red! We have a rouge on the loose."

…

Tony weaved between the boxes slowly and quietly, waiting for the perfect time to strike. An unsuspecting soldier sipping some whiskey and sneaking a sandwich into his patrol time.

He made his move quickly and silently. He made his move deadly. Tony reached up behind the soldier, grabbed his chin, wrapped one arm around the shoulders, and, in one swift movement, snapped the soldiers neck.

The soldier collapsed onto the floor, dead cold. The broken spy picked up the weapon he dropped; a AK47. With a twisted smile crept onto his face when the sound of a thousand guards' footsteps broke through the door.

Tony glanced up, sizing up every soldier, gunner, bomber. Several picked up the guns and opened fire. Tony didn't so much as flinch. He pulled up his gun with one arm and fired at every man and every bullet hit their target.

Blood splattered against the wall and against his face. The red liquid trickled from new wounds from the bullets.

The boy turned and kicked open a crate labeled "C4" and smiled.

…

He walked down the halls fearlessly, unafraid of anything and anyone. He tossed C4 wherever he saw fit which was anywhere, really.

He continued to take out guards without hesitation, not flinch, not so much as a faulted step. The bullet wound throbbed painfully. His head ached, every fiber of his being screaming with agony, but he had lost himself within himself.

He no longer cared.

Tony exited the base quietly. He walked calmly, with confidence and deadly eyes. Drenched in blood, both his and not. Scratches, bruises. He pulled something from his pocket, a detonator, pressing the button. There was a large explosion and the base erupted into flames and fire.

Tony didn't look back.

He walked away without showing any sign that he knew the fire was there. He did acknowledge the burning man running from the base, screaming in agony. Tony did nothing but walk.

The killer of a child.


	2. Chapter 2: Sold

**The Killer of a Child**

**By: Atomic Kokoro**

**Storyline**

Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.

**Before You Read**

Yep. Wrote a sequel. Just as scary.

On with the story.

…

**Sold**

A cloak dimmed his features as he stumbled, half-limping down the familiar hall. The double doors opened to a room he knew all too well. In one, smooth motion he tore off the cloak. It fluttered in the air for a minute before dropping to the ground.

The man behind the desk turned his chair around to face the visitor. His eyes blinked and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "T-Tony?"

Tony raised his pistol and aimed it carelessly. "Hello, Jerry," he said casually. "Selling out your spies to the military another hobby of yours?"

Jerry blinked a couple times. "W-what are you-"

"You know what I'm talking about," Tony hissed. "Where's Marc, Megan, and Lee, huh? You sell 'em out, too?"

"No. I didn't."

Tony growled, baring his teeth like a dog. "Don't lie. I'll kill you! Now, tell me why how I ended up at the military, a prisoner to the United States? Don't tell me you had nothing to do with it."

Jerry said nothing.

Tony scoffed. "Fine. Have it your way." Without hesitation he pulled the trigger. He picked up his cloak. Sirens blared and lights flashed. Tony replaced his cloak back on his shoulders and walked out of WOOHP Headquarters unnoticed.

...

Getting into his own house was easy; it was the same way every time. Through with window, if not the vent. Tony dropped himself on the bed he used to sleep in. His blood soaked clothes stained his sheets, but it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be here long.

He had taken the plane to arrive back home. He was smart enough to find the his files and flip through them. They knew he was from WOOHP. If they wanted someone decent, Marc or Lee was fine enough. But he supposed not. His young age and training was perfect for whatever they were planning.

To kill. Assassinate. They took away whatever childish innocence, whatever morals he had so they could use him as a killer.

Jerry had to have known. He never tried to save him. What did his siblings think? Did they know?

As if on cue, the door opened. Marc walked in and froze at the sight of Tony. "T-Tony," he whispered with disbelief. Everyone would have the same reaction.

"And where have you been?" he answered. "Do you know anything?"

Marc closed the door behind him. He nodded.

Tony chuckled. "At least you tell the truth, unlike Jerry."

His genius brother gasped in shock. "Jerry? W-what did you do, Tony? What happened?"

"Simple," Tony replied. "I killed him. Do you know what happened? I was sold out, wasn't I? Do you know about that?"

Tony could see Marc quivering. "S-sold...out...? N-no...I thought...it was just a transfer. ...I..."

"Like WOOCSI? Ha! I wish." Marc examined Tony once over, noting all the blood and wounds his youngest brother was covered it. "Do you know what they did? What they wanted me for?" Marc shook his head. "They tortured me. They wanted to take away all of who I was so I could be their little pet slave and kill whoever, whenever."

Marc brought his hands to his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks. He could see it. Picture it. Everything they did to him. All the innocence taken. The cold, hard being Tony was now. "T-Tony..." he whimpered, sinking to his knees. "I'm sorry." Tony stood from the bedside and walked over to his brother. "...I wish I knew...I wish I knew..."

Two clicks warned Marc that he was not about to be forgiven anytime soon. "Where are the others?" Tony demanded.

"Downstairs," Marc replied, waiting a moment to ask his question. "Are you going to kill them?"

Tony thought about this for a moment. "Yes." Marc looked up at his dead brother, who held a gun in his hand. He choked on a sob and bowed his head, letting Tony leave passed him.

When the door clicked shut, Marc rushed into his closet and shut the door. There was some talking on the floor below, an explosion, a scream, another explosion, more screams, and many more explosions.

Marc shut his eyes, covered his ears, and sobbed.

...

Tony had nowhere to go. His family dead, save for one brother who also had nowhere to go, his boss dead...even he himself was dead. He knew he had one thing left to do.

Take revenge on the military who destroyed him on the inside and claimed the lives of many others. Every soldier involved in the terrible recruitment.

Every. Single. One.


	3. Chapter 3: Sweet Revenge

**To Kill A Child**

**By: Atomic Kokoro**

**Storyline**

Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.

**Before You Read**

Not much going on in this chapter. Just non-important stuff.

On with the story.

...

**Chapter 3**

**Sweet Revenge**

They were looking for him. Him and his stupid-yet-genius brother. It was obvious that he had done it. Marc must have run away. Stupid. He should've stayed where he was. What was he gonna do without Lee, Megan, or Jerry?

WOOHP knew it was him, too. The bullets were from a specially designed weapon. After enough research, they would know the package was delivered to their house under his name. Since Marc was missing, they would be torn between who did what.

Or they would assume they were working together.

Tony could easily return, crying and injured, insisting it was Marc who did it and not him. That Marc had stolen his gun and done whatever he could and he managed to just get away with his life, but that would make things harder for the both of them.

He still had his revenge to earn and Marc...God knew what Marc was up to. He probably didn't want to know. He didn't need to know. It didn't concern him. Marc knew he was far from getting his youngest brother back. He wouldn't do anything.

Tony stood from his crouch in the alleyway across the street from his house, watching the lights and sirens. Neighbors called the cops when they heard gunshots and screaming. Marc ran away. Tony disappeared into the dark. Any clues that traced to either him or Marc may have been washed away. Only accusations were sensible.

The only questions were began with how. How long until it all went away? How long until he was caught? How long could he stay in hiding? How long would Marc stay in hiding? How long would the police look for the murderer? How would he survive? How would he find all those apart of the operation? How many people would die, how much would he have to suffer, how long would this be going on for?

...

How long until I find him? a voice growled in anger. He saw the aftermath. He couldn't stand what he saw. Vases broken, TV static, Blood staining the walls and carpet. Everybody dead. I will earn my revenge, he thought to himself.

If Tony thought he was the only dangerous weapon in the world, he was wrong. He pulled a desert eagle pistol from his drawer. He jumped out his window and ran as fast and far as he could without stopping until he was out of town.

Tony wasn't his brother anymore. They were enemies. He would kill him. Marc would kill Tony Clark.

...

Five Years Later

He left her breathless. It was no doubt. Prostitution was exactly the future Mr. Know-It-All had in mind for himself but in order to find his brother-no, enemy-, he needed money. And so far, this was the only way to get it.

Dragging his mind from his latest earn, he turned down a corner he knew all too well. Marc expected the barrel in his face before he woke up that morning. The barrel was taken from eye level and an old man stepped out from behind the trash can. "'Ey, my boy," he said with a Fisherman's accent. "What brings ya 'ere today, hm?"

Marc pulled a bill of cash from his pocket and handed it to the man. "I may be bent on revenge on Tony, but I'm not a complete jerk. Take the money. Spend it wisely."

The old Fisherman laughed and looked at the bill. "Ya'rr' the wise one 'ere, matey. Ya should use dat brain of yers someday to get ya somewhere, hm?"

"I would, if it were that easy," Marc replied. "I am only seventeen. No one in this city wants a too-smart seventeen-year-old in their shop, I doubt. Besides. I move too far, too quickly to keep a job, anyhow."

The Fisherman laughed. "This ain't no goodbye present, is it?"

Marc nodded. "I'm afraid so, old man. From what sources tell me, the murders are spreading East. It has to be Tony."

"Ya'll be missed, friend," the Fisherman sighed. "It was nice knowin' ya. Come back and visit when ya can."

"I will," said Marc. "I will live and come back. Don't worry."

The Fisherman began to wander out of the ally towards a shop. "I'm not worried. A boy as strong as you? No, I'm not worried."

...

Tony leaned forward, so close to the dying man's face, their noses were almost touching. "This is what you get for torturing children to the breaking point," he whispered, licking the blood off the man's lips.

He injected the knife into the man's chest. He gasped in a silent pain before falling back dead. Tony smiled and growled cheerfully. Another soldier dead. Far more to go.

Policemen broke open the door with a mighty kick. "Freeze with your hands up!" he ordered.

Tony laughed. "You stupid, stupid man. Bullets don't hurt me anymore. Hurt me all you want. You can't kill me. You'll never understand the truth without me." He turned and vanished out the window, suddenly invisible to the world.

The boy was gone. Long gone.

Another murder successful. Bloody, painful, and slow. As always. Revenge was sweet when it was like that.

It was always sweet like that.

Not far below the boy ducking in the tree was someone he hadn't expected to see in five years, holding a gun, ready to kill at first movement.

Tony jumped to the ground, but turned, whipping his pistol from his jacket, the barrel of another gun pressing against his forehead as he aimed his against his enemy.

Tony and Marc were at a stand-off.


	4. Chapter 4: Bitter End

**To Kill A Child**

**By: Atomic Kokoro**

**Storyline**

Tony becomes a dark killer after merciless interrogation and torture. He earns his revenge.

**Before You Read**

The best part of the whole story, I think. One, because it's the end. Two, because it's just freaking awesome.

On with the story.

...

**Chapter 4**

**Bitter End**

Guns to each others' forehead, the stalemate seemingly endless. "I found you," Marc whispered dangerously. "After all these years, I finally caught up to you."

"Marc, Marc, Marc," Tony breathed the name as if Marc had just done a stupid mistake that was quite obvious before it was done. "You stupid, stupid child. You don't know the truth as well as you think you do."

Marc's eyes squeezed to a squint. "Why did you kill them?" he spat. "Why did you kill my family? What did they do that they deserved to die?"

Tony raised an eyebrow before bursting into laughter. "You honestly think I killed them?" he asked. "It wasn't me. It was WOOHP. I thought you knew WOOHP was there. They killed our family. They killed me. And they're going to kill you. Once they get their hands on you, you're as good as dead as me."

"Shut up!" Marc snapped, pressing the barrel against Tony's forehead even more. "WOOHP wouldn't ever do that. They protect people, Tony! How could you forget that?"

Tony whipped his fist into Marc's jaw and sent him flying to the ground. Blood dribbled from a cut on Marc's lip. "That's what that want you to think. They want you to feel safe, until they sell you out. They will. They sell you out to the US Military to be tortured until all your innocence, until all your sanity is gone. They break you and use to kill others. Innocents."

Marc leaned up and looked at Tony. "Do you think what you're doing in honorable?"

Tony smirked knowingly, like he usually did when he was going to throw a good insult. "Better than fucking ladies for some greenery, don't you think?"

"You little bastard!" Marc yelled, launching at Tony. He grabbed Tony's wrist, forcing his younger brother to drop the gun and sent a good right cross to the face. "I'll make sure you die tonight!"

Tony twisted and kicked as hard as he could but it was only blocked. Marc released Tony's wrist and pulled back on his ankle, forcing Tony to fall to his knee. Tony firmly pressed his palms against the ground and kicked his second foot back, nailing Marc in the jaw.

Marc let go of Tony's ankle. Tony flipped back onto his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. Marc didn't bother to rub the saliva and red fluids that dripped down his chin.

Tony reached behind him and pulled a knife from his back pocket. Marc did the same thing and charged without a thought. Tony ducked down below Marc's blade and thrust his own towards Marc's abdomen. Marc swayed to the right, avoiding the stab and only earning a scratch.

He brought the knife down on Tony's back, slicing through flesh and muscle, deep inside the sixteen-year-old's ribs. Tony screamed, in pain and anger, and drove his own knife into Marc's gut. Marc released an unvoiced scream and lurched forward.

Both pulled the knives from each others' bodies simultaneously and retreated back a step or two to catch their breaths. Marc could feel his sight fading in and out and it took all his willpower to remain conscious. Tony was just ignoring the pain.

Blood stained the grass and each boy's clothing. Both were in great pain. Marc coughed and vital fluid and spit escaped from his lips. Blood trickled down Tony's back.

Tony stepped forward and swiped the tip of his blade across Marc's chest, leaving a deep but non-lethal scratch into the skin. Marc counted with a similar motion but Tony jumped back and avoided the attack.

Again, Marc stepped forward with the same motion but aiming for the head. It hit. Not fatally but enough to draw large amounts of blood. Tony growled and threw himself onto Marc. He didn't use his knife. Instead, it was his teeth that sunk into Marc's shoulder.

Marc screamed in agony. Tony pulled back, ripping flesh, cloth, and muscles from Marc's being and spit it back out again. His teeth were stained in blood as well as the chest of his suit from the blood on the flesh he ripped off with his teeth.

The older teen took the chance to drive his knife into Tony's leg. Tony howled and jumped off of Marc to lick his wounds. Marc scrambled to his feet and nursed his injured shoulder.

He looked back at Tony and his eyes widened his horror. The look in his brother's eyes...blood lust, anger, insanity, all while remaining emotionless. Marc stepped back, accidentally tripping over a rock.

A life-costing mistake.

Tony lunged at Marc and pounced on him again. Using his teeth once more, he bit down on Marc's throat. Marc gasped for air, trying to push Tony off of him. Tony bit down harder and harder. Then he pulled back and ripped his throat open.

He laughed psychotically as he watched his brother die slowly from suffocation, blood loss, and shock. He swallowed the meat he tore from Marc's throat and laughed again.

A light shone on the broken child and he spun around, glaring at the bright whiteness. He smiled, licked his lips, then turned and ran into the shadows. Disappearing to the blackness, becoming one with the darkness.

Never to be seen again.

_**THE**_ _**END**_

**After Notes**

Don't fret, psyco-killer Tony will make his second appearence in the story, "To Kill A Child's Virus", a collab by me and XoXBloodyAliceT.T. Yay!

Loved it? Hate it? Wanna read it again? Let me know! The review button is right there!


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